Copped Feel
by ficlit78
Summary: Set in Merge with Caution.  Pete and Myka can't help but "explore" the borrowed body of their partner.  Smutty thoughts and whatnot.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: ** Okay. So _Merge With Caution_ has officially driven me to drink. Or write, as the case may be. The whole situation of Pete and Myka's bodies switching is worth so much more than the cheap boob grope that the show gave it. In my smutty universe, this would have happened instead.

**Copped Feel**

She hadn't wanted him to mess up her pretty blue dress. That had been her reason for shoving into her hotel room and ordering him to change. For some reason, probably having to do with kneejerk modesty, she'd wanted him to do it alone. Strange, considering it was her body and not his that was getting undressed, but still, she kept her eyes down and made a gesture into the room towards her clothes. He watched how awkwardly Myka wore his own body, moving his hands in effeminate swirls, bending slightly at the waist, clearly unused to having such large, heavy dimensions in the chest and shoulders. She turned those hands inward, as if to run her hands through her hair or cross her arms, but curly locks didn't grace his shoulders and his bigger pecs and biceps unnerved her as they crunched together with her actions, so she simply dropped his arms at his sides. He watched with amazement as his own eyes wore Myka's insecurity, their dark shade piercing him with her earnestness. It made him realize that Myka's eyes, not matter what color, would always be beautiful. She gave him a squint of annoyance and did that ungainly gesture again, indicating he hurry up. Pete smirked. At least he wasn't the only one feeling weirded out.

Dressed in her willowy, feminine avatar, he'd stumbled in and closed the door, tossing a confused glance at her suitcase, not even knowing where to start. He'd been too tipsy to argue with her about this, and now he was facing the most devious level of temptation God ever saw fit to tease man.

Alone in a room with a beautiful woman's body over which he had complete control.

Fuck him purple and call him Mavis. What was a man to do?

Walking rather gracelessly towards Myka's small stacks of clothes, he saw her usual staples tossed on the floor and on the bed. Her jeans. Her black Converse. Her little tops in various colors. He smiled at her casual style and instantly felt her fuller, supple lips stretch over his/her teeth. Without thinking, he reached up and ran her fingertips over them, grunting softly at their softness and hearing her lighter, prettier voice in lieu of his. Damn, could this situation be any more of a mind fuck? He pushed farther into her mouth, following the lines of her teeth and exploring the texture of her tongue. Shocking, really, how quickly it turned him on.

Turning towards the full length mirror on the door, he stared at her.

Myka stared back at him, her finger stuck seductively in her mouth. Sucking it hard, he pulled it out slowly, watching her as if she were licking chocolate off her finger while sending him a Fuck Me pout. The dress didn't help. It's sexy, borderline slutty hems were clinging to her cleavage and thighs. He rotated her slender shoulders and felt that material slide over the startlingly sensitive skin of her breasts. No wonder she didn't want him wearing it. There was a good possibility he'd rip it to shreds, tearing it open just to get to the smokin' body underneath. He let her finger go with a pop and smiled at her reflection. There was no need to tear it, was there? He'd been ordered to take it off.

_Yes, ma'am_, he saluted mentally, and reached for the zipper at the side. Slim fingers found it and pulled with no trouble. Pete shimmied slightly, loving how Myka's body moved with bold sexuality now that he was in charge of it. The dress fell to the floor without a fight and Pete smothered a groan at the present she'd accidentally given him underneath.

Her bra was - no shit - the tiniest, flirtiest piece of black strapless lace that he'd ever laid eyes on. The things it did to her bursting cleavage, holy hell in a hand basket. His eyes raked down her taut belly to her equally scant matching panties. Pete couldn't even summon the jealousy he would have normally felt at the idea of her dressing like this for some blowhard she'd crushed on back in the day. He was too entranced by her beauty. Reverently, he ran her hands down the lovely lines of her, exhaling raggedly and once again hearing Myka's breathy voice, making it even hotter.

Pete was tying himself in knots as he let Myka's hands slide down her body and fill his mind with the double-pronged pleasure of learning how unbelievably sexy her curves were and experiencing what her hands felt like as they roved over her body. They were so fucking nimble, little fingers dancing and teasing over skin that wasn't his. Christ's sake. So this is what it would feel like to touch her. At the same time, this is what it would feel like if she touched him.

He closed his eyes and tried to envisage his own body -harder and blunter - under her capable touch and grunted sharply as her index finger traced accidentally over one of Myka's erogenous zones on her inner thigh. Damn. If he'd had a dick right now, the eroticism of the situation would have had him coming right there and then. Instead, his borrowed female proportions throbbed and clenched at his thoughts and ministrations. Pete was turning Myka on. At least, her _body_ was turned on.

He knew - _he knew_ - that all of this was wrong. He shouldn't be looking. He sure as fuck shouldn't be touching. It felt so wrong that it wrung his brain dry with the equal certainty that it felt so _right_. Suddenly he wished he'd been given this opportunity under less rushed circumstances. They had so little time, and Myka-wearing-Pete would be knocking any second demanding to know what the hold up was. But he couldn't help his stunned explorations as he gently squeezed her breasts through that ridiculously sexy lace and felt her body react violently to his touch. He wasn't sure if Myka was this easily aroused by autoerotica, or if Myka's body sensed Pete's presence and simply wanted _him_. God, he hoped it was the second one (not that the first wasn't equally awesome). He prayed like hell that Myka felt for him a tenth of what he was making her feel now. The hot, throbbing need that was moving through her, poetically _because _of her, was driving him crazy. He tipped her head back and let her hands creep into that gorgeous hair that Myka-wearing-Pete had tried to touch, but only found air. Her curls teased his senses and his eyes slid shut as those wandering fingers closed over them. Oh fuck, they were soft. He let them slide deeper, palming the back of her head and stifling a groan, knowing that this is how it would feel to hold her as she kissed his real body, or if his hands were in her hair as she sucked him off. His eyes shot wide at the thought and he instantly yanked his/her hands clear. Taking a shaking breath, he turned away from the mirror.

He smothered another moan as he pulled a pair of her jeans over her killer legs and accidentally grazed her soaking panties. Her clit was throbbing savagely. Pete bit down hard, willing his female hard-on to go away. As much as he'd like to take care of her and fondle her wet little pussy until he himself came, that was a level of wrong he couldn't even bring himself to consider. He hiked her jeans up and snapped them closed. He grabbed a shirt without looking at it and dragged it over her swollen, aching breasts. He found some little white socks in the side pocket of her suitcase and jammed her cute little tootsies into them before throwing on her Converse and lacing them tight.

Standing up, he took one last look in the mirror. Good ole Myka blinked back at him.

_Goddamn her_, he thought as he stomped towards the door where his partner waited on the other side. _She didn't even know what she does to me. _


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Myka's turn! BTW, I don't own anything remotely having to do with _Warehouse 13_. I've never even been to South Dakota. Then again, who has?

**Part II**

Myka tried so hard not to. She really, really did.

She had no interest, zero really, in anything other than finding Pete-wearing-Myka, finding the responsible artifact and changing back into her old self. God, it had been humiliating enough to be sitting one minute at her reunion in Colorado, then head-spinningly dumped into Pete's post-coital naked situation the next. She felt Pete's cheeks turn red even as she thought about it, feeling Kelly's hands creeping up his/her startlingly strong chest, looking up at him like he'd won gold in the Olympics for fucking. Her instincts revolted at a female touch, grabbing her hands from him and gasping as his grip squeezed harder than she meant it to. She slackened it and gave some fumbling, half-ass excuse for not being able to go another round. Kelly, being sweet, accepted it. Myka grinned tightly, trying to mimic Pete while at the same time trying not to throw up at the horror of him being with her, and quickly got dressed.

She hadn't once let herself look down while she did.

And she was damn proud.

She did her best to keep her eyes forward and operate his body without looking like a freak. She called him in Colorado and agreed to meet up with him as soon as she could get there. Meanwhile, a nagging little voice was grumbling in her mind. At first, she ignored it, waiting impatiently for the small jet to be prepped behind the warehouse for her trip. But as she threw a few things into a bag, including a Tessla and artifact info, the voice grew louder and louder and eventually Myka realized she was going to have to take care of it.

Pete's body needed to pee. Like crazy.

Sighing at the inevitable, Myka walked into the warehouse bathroom (the men's, she remembered that much) and went into one of the stalls. No way in hell was she peeing in a urinal. Locking the flimsy door, she fumbled with his button fly, her head craned up, determined not to look. She succeeded in opening his pants and searched tentatively for the opening in his boxers. When she found skin, she gasped softly, hearing Pete. She ignored how good he sounded when surprised and gently pulled his penis from its confines, not wanting to pull too hard and hurt him. She chuckled at her worry. If Pete's body was in pain, she'd be the first to know, but her overly-respectful ways made her overly-cautious as well. She didn't want to go messing around with Pete's junk and accidentally break something. She'd feel terrible, never mind embarrassed as all hell when he got his body back and discovered some bizarre injury she'd managed to sustain while wearing him.

But now she was faced with a problem.

She had him in her grasp, but she'd never peed standing up and she needed to aim. Exhaling sharply, she looked down.

Another little moan escaped Pete's lips as she looked at him cradled in her hand. Even flaccid, Pete was - for lack of a better word - hung. Myka bit her borrowed lips, letting her tongue slide out and trace Pete's stubble that started just beyond his mouth. Oh god, Pete tasted sexy, even to his own taste buds.

Myka shivered, finally allowing herself to _feel _Pete's body around her. To smell him. To breathe as him. To touch him.

She pressed the slightly different floor muscles of his lower region, letting him void his bladder into the toilet. She couldn't help but watch in fascination as he/she did so. Relief flooded her, a relief she was familiar with. Apparently going to the bathroom felt good no matter what your gender. Once finished, she dabbed him carefully and flushed the toilet, tucking him back into his clothes. She went to the sink to wash his hands. Turning on the water, she looked up into the mirror above the spigot and finally let herself _look _at him.

Pete looked back at her, only it was an expression she'd never seen on him before. His eyes were soft and searching. They were looking at her like he'd never seen her before. His cocky grin was missing, as was the confident bearing in his shoulders. Instead, he was hunched in, all of his impressive muscles trying to fit into a smaller space. She cocked his head and watched his chin jut. The angular facet of his jaw caught the light and made her smile. Pete's reflection smiled back at her. Unused to such a sweet, soft smile from him, Myka blushed. Pete blushed with her. She snorted at this merry-go-round ridiculousness and stood straighter, determined to take a more clinical approach to this phenomenon.

She rationalized that if she was going to pass as a man, however briefly before she changed back, then she damned well better act the part.

Gazing hard at his face, she pulled her shoulders back and stood straight. Her feminine mind registered how much more space she now inhabited. She would have to remember that as she walked and try not to bang into things. She looked down at Pete's hands as she raised them, palms up. His broader, thicker hands flexed as she told them to. She couldn't help but notice that his forearms and biceps flexed with them, the muscles and tendons rippling easily with her movements. Yes, she allowed, she was definitely stronger. Part of her envied him this. If he ever bothered to take up martial arts and other defense classes like she always bugged him about, he could do some serious damage with this body of his.

Dropping his arms, she looked back at the mirror and looked at his t-shirt-clad chest. Biting his lips again, she pulled it up away from his belly, intent on seeing _just for a second _what he looked like underneath. The fabric pulled away and the density of his abdominal muscles greeted her underneath.

Myka gasped softly, once again hearing Pete. One hand gently traced the definition around his navel. She noted with satisfaction that, despite his overt masculinity, he was relatively hairless. Only a fine line of down started low on his belly, disappearing under the waist of his jeans. Her mouth had fallen slack as she watched his hand explore him. She felt pleasure as she did so, her light touch sending shivers through him. She had a sudden desire to kiss him there, just to register what it felt like to a) feel him under her lips and b) feel his reaction to her lips on him. But she couldn't kiss his tummy anymore than she could kiss her own. Nor did she have her own lips to feel him if she did. She only had Pete's lips. Pete's firm, surprisingly soft lips. She bit them again, taking pleasure in how the felt when bitten. Pete's body liked it too, apparently. The tingling sensation gathering in his groin was a dead giveaway.

Helpless, Myka pressed harder into his abs, tracing the line of his waistband, angrily smug when she felt the beginnings of an erection. She groaned slightly, and damn was it thrilling to hear Pete make that noise. She wondered savagely if Kelly could get him this hot, just by barely touching him. Did she know that Pete liked being teased like this? Was she aware that just above Pete's hipbone was a sweet spot that almost caught fire when tickled? Myka felt her eyes close as she zeroed in on that spot. Pete's nervous system was practically buzzing as she brushed it over and over, feeling its electricity shoot straight to his groin, making him harder.

Oh god, it felt so good. His chest tightened and she felt all of his muscles go rigid with restraint. Being temporarily male, she was suddenly clued in to how violently this form was reacting to her gentle, feminine ways. His erection was pulling at her will power like a powerful magnet. Pete's body wanted to fuck. Badly. Being helplessly tied to him, that meant that Myka also wanted to fuck. Very, _very_ badly. Except she wanted to fuck the man she was wearing. She wanted to fuck _him_, not as him. His flesh was responding to her thoughts about him, becoming more ready with each moment she indulged her little peep show. Pete was turned on by what Myka was doing to him, and that was oh-so-gratifying. But she was starting to realize that it was also empty. Pete wasn't really here. He wasn't smiling at her. He wasn't responding to her. There was no one in the men's room except Myka.

Suddenly angry at herself, Myka pulled Pete's hands away from his body and yanked his shirt back down. She berated her achingly pleasant hard-on until she felt it soften under her ire. She looked back at Pete in the mirror and spoke with his voice.

"Forgive me."


End file.
